


Siren's Song

by Allerleirauh



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Coffee Addiction, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allerleirauh/pseuds/Allerleirauh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The smell of freshly roasted coffee was like a silent siren’s song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siren's Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [colls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colls/gifts).



> Written for Small Fandoms Fest 12  
> Prompt: hot, fresh coffee  
> betaed by emisolde

The smell of freshly roasted coffee was like a silent siren’s song. It wafted through the corridors and quarters of _Destiny’s_ habitat areas, and it drifted through open doors and air-vents until it seemed to suffuse every last bit of the ship. In its wake people stepped out of their quarters, looked up from their work, and exchanged puzzled glances with co-workers or friends. ‘What is this?’ they asked each other, and ‘Can it be true?’

 It didn’t take long until a small crowd of them was gathering in front of _Destiny’s_ makeshift kitchen. Strangely enough, no one did the most obvious and simply stepped in to inquire about the smell. Instead there was a hushed hubbub of questions and tentatively voiced speculations as to the source of the enticing aroma.

 It almost seemed like the crowd was unable or unwilling to do more. As if seeking out the actual source might break the spell. Like with Schroedinger’s Cat, they could believe in its existence, but only as long as none of them opened the kitchen’s doors. Once that was done, reality would force a decision on the wave-form of possibilities, causing it to collapse into a distinct set of yes or no, coffee or no coffee. Yet, most of the crowd weren’t even aware why they acted as they did, why they remained in front of the kitchen instead of rushing in there, demanding an answer.

 However, one person, a late arrival, had no such qualms. He came through one of the adjacent corridors, his stride decisive and purposeful. He was so very much a man on a mission, the crowd of people gathered in front of the kitchen’s doors parted for him like the Red Sea in front of Moses. Without much more than a glance left and right he passed through; his palm hit the door mechanism with a resolute thud, and he slipped through the opening doors as soon as the gap was wide enough.

 Of course, that was when the real commotion started.

 Granted, the times when every word and action of Dr Nicholas Rush had led to instinctive and deep suspicion from everyone around him, second-guessing at his hidden motives, lay in the past. Yet, seeing him vanish behind those doors that might lead to a miraculous treasure of ambrosia brought back only half-buried memories of some of his more spectacular schemes of the past.

 The crowd surged towards the doors only to discover that the entrance was locked now. From one moment to the other the crowds mood changed from one of mostly passive puzzlement and speculation to that of a swarm of angry bees, suddenly stirred by the clumsy steps of a thief who’d come to rob their hive. Voices rose to yells and someone started to bang at the doors.

 At that stage the next major player in this drama entered the scene.

 A sharp whistle behind them made the crowd turn once again, shifting their attention away from the doors and towards the new intruder. Colonel Young stood there, hands on hips, his face a scowl of disapproval.

 While Rush, in his typical disregard for such petty things as public opinion or the often volatile group dynamics of _Destiny’s_ crew, had simply waded through the crowd and vanished inside the kitchen, Young didn’t have the same freedom. Like all of the others it had been the smell that had led him here. Now, personal curiosity was quelled as he slipped into his well-versed role as _Destiny’s_ military commander. Raising the voice of reason, he tried and succeeded in calming the waves. Stepping forward, he rapped against the doors and was let in.

 Surprisingly enough, seeing the Colonel disappear into the kitchen didn’t cause another commotion.

 Not too long afterwards, both Rush and Young left the kitchen together. Standing side by side in the open doorway, it was Young who finally presented the answer to the coffee-mystery, who broke the spell and turned reality back from magical to mundane.

 The smell was a fake. The roasting of a newfound grain had produced it, but it turned out the alluring aroma was an empty promise. No palatable brew could be made out of it and, even more importantly, there wasn’t even a single micro-particle of caffeine to be found in it. 

 The disappointment was overwhelming, even crushing. Predictably it took a while until the most stubborn of the always-suspicious gave in and accepted the truth, but eventually they did. For a few days a sullen despondency hung above all of their heads, colouring ship life until the next pending disaster effectively turned their minds away from such frivolous luxuries as coffee and towards more immediate concerns like their bare survival.

 Time passed until the whole episode was almost forgotten.

 Weeks later, it was TJ who came up with the idea, caffeine or no caffeine, of how to utilize the grain and its enticing smell, regardless of its shortcomings in the beverage department. They decided on a monthly roast for as long as the supply lasted, and they combined it with handing out some of the crew’s favourite food. The goal was to create a favourable mood by linking both experiences and luckily the gamble worked. The crew’s morale rose noticeably and, as Young put it, ‘beggars can’t be choosers’. Even if it was only the smell of coffee it was certainly better than some of the everyday aromas and stenches that filled the _Destiny’s_ corridors and halls.

 One day, yes, one fine day, they would have the real stuff, either by establishing a steady means to re-supply from Earth or by some other happy chance. It wasn’t as if the people on kitchen duty weren’t doing their best, checking out everything, analysing and examining even the unlikeliest of candidates among the plants that were brought back from their gate travels. After all, it had been their tenacity that had led to the latest almost-discovery.

 One day they would happen upon the good stuff. Until then they would console themselves by taking deep breaths once a month and indulging in dreams of dark liquid, but one day…yes…one fine day…


End file.
